


It's Fair To Say You Didn't Act Subtle

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: Take Me To The Stars [18]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Exes, F/F, Flirting, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18618787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Missy. The Mistress. An old friend, an old enemy, or the best of both.Also, apparently, now inside Clara's TARDIS, and determined to befriend the Doctor's new besties... much to the Doctor's considerable horror.





	It's Fair To Say You Didn't Act Subtle

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by allnewtpir's prompt:
> 
>   _Team TARDIS meets Missy. She and Graham snark, Yaz and Ryan goggle, 13 and Clara facepalm._

Clara is not entirely sure whether to scream or groan at the scene in front of her. She wonders whether, hypothetically, it out to be possible to do both, before the seasoned and logical part of her brain informs her that her mouth and larynx and lungs aren’t programmed to be capable of doing such things, and instead settles for the far more straightforward:

“What in the name of sanity are _you_ doing here?” 

It might come out a little more sharply than she intends; it might not. Either way, the rest of the team come to a halt behind her, mouths open, wholly confused as to why on Earth – or not Earth; she hasn’t bothered to find out what planet this is – Clara is being so hostile to a seemingly innocent patron. A seemingly innocent patron who is sucking on a curly straw dipped in a strawberry milkshake, her lips twisting into a smirk as Clara looks from her to the milkshake to the general direction of her TARDIS console, and makes a mental resolution to up the general security of the place.

At the rear of the group, the door opens and shuts, and the Doctor breezes in, entirely unaware of the terse silence that has settled over the room, dusting off her coattails and grinning with her usually affability.

“Sorry about that, the parking brakes didn’t quite want to play ball and I didn’t want a repeat of Klom and that bloke that charged us with kidnapping because we got boomeranged off-planet,” the Doctor says in a rush, her view of the scene partially obstructed by Ryan and Graham. “I maintain that it’s not my fault the consoles are linked, although I will admit, not putting the handbrake on was on m-” 

She falls silent as she steps past her friends and takes her place at Clara’s side, her eyes falling on the woman in front of them, who is still sipping her milkshake wordlessly, her smirk now larger than that of the Cheshire Cat. Smugness radiates off her in waves so intense that it’s a wonder they can’t be seen, and Clara sends several mental obscenities in the direction of her TARDIS. 

“Hello, dearie,” Missy trills, getting to her feet and crossing the chequered linoleum to embrace her fellow Time Lady, who stands frozen to the spot, entirely motionless. “Goodness, I’m glad you’re here; can’t be dealing with conversing with your little pets.” 

“Missy, the last time I saw you, you seemed entirely intent on shagging me,” Clara points out with considerable bemusement, and Missy lets go of the statue-like figure of the Doctor and takes a step back, arching an eyebrow in her direction. “So I think you can stoop to exchanging pleasantries with me.” 

“We wouldn’t have needed to talk while shagging,” Missy observes, tipping her a theatrical wink and revelling in the drama. “I would’ve seen to that; I’ve got this lovely-”

“I’m right here,” the Doctor interjects out, wrapping one arm around Clara’s waist protectively and drawing her closer to her body. Clara leans against her partner, grateful for the contact – it’s been decades now and she’s still somewhat wary of the Doctor’s best enemy. For every attempted snog, there’s been an attempted murder; the two sides of the same coin that is Missy. “You know. Her partner.”

“That’s alright, darling,” Missy coos, not missing a beat. “We could invite you to join us, it’d be just like the old days back on Gallifrey.” 

“Doctor,” Ryan manages, and the three women turn to look at the team, all of whom look singularly baffled by the ongoing exchange. “Please tell me that this isn’t another one of your exes.” 

“This isn’t another one of her exes,” Missy says with great affront, then scowling. “Drat, drawn into conversation by a halfwit.” 

“Excuse me?!”

“Don’t take it personally, dear,” Missy rolls her eyes in his direction. “Your species have barely evolved out of the metaphorical primordial ooze; it isn’t your fault. Give it a few millennia and several evolutionary adaptations and I might even consider mating with one of you.” 

“You considered mating with me,” Clara reminds her pointedly. “Remember?”

“You’re touched by Gallifreyan technology, not to mention immortal,” Missy sighs impatiently, as though it should be evident that this fact – apparently – changes her perspective on Clara. “That elevates you, somewhat.” 

“Doctor, who _is_ she?” Ryan presses. “Why are you letting her be quite so… I dunno, why are you letting her flirt like that? With you, and with Clara?” 

“I’m not flirting. This is my natural, winning personality,” Missy says brightly, affixing Ryan with an open, easy smile. “See?”

Ryan’s eyes glaze over and he takes half a step towards the Time Lady, and Clara and the Doctor realise in unison what Missy is doing. 

“ _No_ ,” the Doctor snaps, waving her hand in front of Missy’s face with an expression of fury and watching as Ryan seems to come back to himself. “No hypnotising my friends.” 

“Sorry, dear. It’s so easy to do, what with their backwards little brains.” 

“Stop it. Answer his question,” the Doctor says through gritted teeth. “Explain who you are to them.” 

“I’m Missy,” Missy gives a flamboyant little curtsy, then adds in a bow for good measure. “Much like your… friend here, I too was once encumbered with the trappings of being a man, before I upgraded my body and mind to the female plane. She did the same some considerable time later; but then again, she always was a copycat.” 

“Yeah, but like… who _are_ you? That’s just your title, like she’s the Doctor, but what do you _do_?” Ryan probes, and Yaz nods beside him. “Missy doesn’t mean anything to us.” 

“It’s short for Mistress, as in Your Highness, Your Imperial Majesty, Your Eminence, etc., etc., etc. Accordingly, I conquer planets, enslave races and blow up solar systems,” Missy pauses for dramatic effect, then widens her eyes like a child telling a scary story. “For funsies.”

Ryan, Yaz and Graham give a synchronised snort of amusement, but Missy’s face remains impassive they realise as one that she isn’t joking.

“Wait,” Graham looks horrified. “You’re serious?”

“Quite. Do none of you remember me? I once turned your into species into my duplicates. Some of my finer work, actually, even if it was rather overshadowed by the staggering unsuccessful attempted re-emergence into the universe of the titanically boring chaps who call themselves my race.” 

All three of them shook their heads in blank incomprehension.

“Turned your species into floating metal balls?” Missy sighs heavily, visibly disappointed. “Wait, _someone_ undid that.” She shot a black look at the Doctor. “For heaven’s sake, I haven’t exactly been subtle. I turned all your dead into walking metal men? It was on the news? St Paul’s? Exploding metal people in graveyards?”

Nothing but confused stares.

“Good god, I knew Sheffield was stuck in the Middle Ages, but I didn’t know it was _that_ bad,” Missy looks wholly put out by their lack of recognition, and then mischievous. “How about this: I used to shag your bestest pal into the next century on a semi-regular basis.”

Graham’s expression becomes one of abject horror, Yaz turns maroon, and Ryan just gapes. 

“ _Missy!_ ” the Doctor groans, burying her face in her hands, and Clara fights the urge to laugh at her partner’s total mortification. “That was a long time ago, we were different people then… you don’t need to-” 

“It wasn’t that long ago. Did you know, chums and chumette, that she actually once built an entire vault to – and I quote – ‘look after my body for a thousand years’? It was all terribly erotic, really. She did a fabulous job of _guarding my body_. I really felt very… taken care of.”

“You were meant to be improving yourself.” 

“At what? My mast-” 

“Missy,” Clara interjects in her best teacher voice. “We get it.”

“Doctor,” Ryan manages after a moment’s processing time. “Do you know any attractive people that haven’t like… fallen at your feet?”

“Why?” Clara can’t help but tease: “Are you offering?” 

“Please,” Missy rolls her eyes with disdain, examining her nails with feigned boredom. “He said ‘attractive.’”  

“Seems racist,” Yaz notes, wrinkling her nose distastefully. “Don’t be rude.”

“It’s not racist, unless you mean ‘racist’ in the sense of ‘anti-human race,’ in which case – yes, guilty as charged. But ‘speciesist’ would be more apt, and is much harder to say. Hurts your little mouths all the more.” Missy arches an eyebrow delicately. “Sorry-not-sorry to break it to you, but none of you do anything for me. Don’t take it personally. I just happen like my partners with two hearts.” 

“Or undead, apparently,” Graham chips in, having apparently recovered from the shock. “In Clara’s case.” 

“God, what is this, an analysis of Missy’s sex life?” Clara runs her hand through her hair, unable to hide her irritation. “For-” 

“I do hope so,” Missy purrs. “I’ve got so many things to share, and-”

“Can we all just…” the Doctor interrupts, and they all turn their attention to her in unison. Her cheeks are scarlet and her demeanour is ruffled, and Clara resists the urge to crack a joke. “Change the subject? Team, this is Missy. She’s my oldest friend, she’s a little murder-y, and she can apparently con other people’s TARDISes into making her food. Don’t get on her bad side or allow yourself to be left unsupervised with her. Actually, that last part – I’m taking responsibility for that. None of you are to be unsupervised with her at any time.” 

“Spoilsport,” Missy grouses. “You’re no fun.”

“Missy, this is my adopted family. Ryan, Yasmin, and Graham.”

Yaz raises her eyebrows a little at the use of her full name. “You aren’t friends,” Clara notes. “And you aren’t going to be. So you’re Yasmin, as far as she’s concerned.” 

Yaz shrugs, folding her arms across her chest in silent acquiescence. 

“Are we meant to have dinner with this maniac?” Graham asks. “Because-” 

“Oh! He called me a maniac,” Missy visibly swells with pride. “I like this one already.”


End file.
